


If the Fates Allow

by karrenia_rune



Category: Once and Future King Series - T. H. White
Genre: Brothers, Gen, Homecoming, I'll be Home For Christmas theme, Yule
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 06:20:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1335232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/pseuds/karrenia_rune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gawaine loves being a knight and serving among the Knights of the Round Table, but something is tugging at his heart-strings and he finally takes a leave of absence to go home and see his brothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If the Fates Allow

"If the Fates Allow" by Karrenia

The snow fell patchily on the sloped roofs of the palace, more thickly on the thatched roofs of the village buildings at the base of the hill where the palace perched on its tall hill, like a honey-muzzled bear protecting her cubs. Inside it was warm and snug with the fires blazing in several hearths, the largest in the feasting hall and a slightly smaller fire in the throne room. 

Gawaine reclined at ease and loose-limbed in the high-backed chair and nursed his mug of mulled cider, looking up at the rafters were the serried banners of the assembled knights hung in their rows on wooden pegs, but his attention was not held for long on the stitchery, or the colors or even the symbols belonging to the Arthur's Knights of the Round Table. Instead, his attention was caught by the red as blood berries from rowan, and holly trees nestled among the green of the strands of holly, the golden star in the small tree on an end table across the way from where he sat maundering.

He set his mug down and wondered at the strange twists of fate that pulled and pushed at one, and thought about how his younger brothers were faring back home in the North Isles and if his Lady Mother and King Lot were celebrating the Yule season. If so, if it were too late for him to give thought to send the gifts he had hemmed and hawed over until, knowing that he was irritating the shopkeeper in the market. That worthy had been making none too subtle hints that it was late and he wished to close up so that he could return to his warm home and family, Gawaine had at last purchased several items and paid over the asking price, and then wrapped them in tissue paper.

He got up from his chair, the wooden runners making a disconcerting scraping sound on the rush-covered floor as he did so, and then he walked over to the window.  
He looked out, and he was not seeing the courtyard in which the markets took place or the practice field where the knights and other fighting men honed their martial skills; instead he saw his home, and thought, what is this malaise I feel, what is it makes me long for home on a time when all should be filled with joy at the prospect of the ending of one year and the beginning of another.'

“A tuppence for your thoughts?” a voice broke him out of his meanderings.

“Arthur!” exclaimed Gawaine.

“Why the long face, my friend?” Arthur's face was fixed in an expression of concern and goodwill. He was dressed as if he had just come in from a long ride, which he had. He was dressed in riding leathers and a metal hauberk, but not his chain mail.

“I, it is difficult to explain,” Gawaine, at last, managed to stammer. Arthur nodded. “I do not wish to pry, but even from across the length of this chamber, one could tell that something is troubling you.”

Gawaine had not been with Arthur's court very long although he had heard that the young man could learn to school his expressions, so it was difficult to tell if there was something more behind this question than that of one friend inquiring after the well-being of another friend. Either way, Gawaine decided that he would choose to take it as the former rather than the latter.

“I am most grateful for the honor and opportunity to be a knight, it is a dream that I never imagined would come true. “However.....” he trailed off, flushing bright red as the hawthorn berries in the rafters above them.

“Trust me, the honor goes both ways, and as for the other matter, you miss your brothers,” Arthur remarked matter-factly.”

“How did you know?”

“Because I know how close your family is close and I respect that. If you wish my leave to return home for the remainder of the Yule season, consider it done.”

“Thank you, Arthur! Thank you!” Gawaine felt his previous malaise drop away from home like the snow sifted down from the sloped roof tiles, stepping forward to grasp Arthur's leather-clad forearm and shake it. After a heartbeat or two, Arthur returned the gesture.  
**  
Five days later

Both horse and rider were lathered with sweat by the time the walls of the King Lot’s castle fortress was close enough to see from the top of the last rise, but regardless of his thirst or the sweat which made his riding leathers and crimson cape cling to him like a second skin, Gawaine was happy to see it. It meant that if he rested for a bit and bedded down in the lee of the rise he would be home by morning. 

Suiting the action to thought, he coaxed the roan stallion down the rise and into the sheltered lee of the loose dirt and scree skidding out from between the horse’s hooves. Stopping to make certain that he had enough room, he got off and began to lead the horse to water, so it could drink. There really was no reason to kill both of them in his eagerness to get home. When the horse had had his fill, Gawaine cupped his hands and took a swallow of slightly woody tasting water from the hollow of a tree. 

He patted the horse’s head and tousled its silky mane, dragging a blanket out of one of his saddlebags and covering the animal with it. He had had the roan for a while and had become accustomed to it, and wanted it to be as comfortable as possible under the circumstances.

The hollow in the pile of fallen rubble and upturned soil and rock certainly was not the most comfortable place he had ever bedded down for the night, but it was far from the worst. It also had the added advantage of being enclosed on three sides. Gawaine settled down into the crevice pulled his cloak up and around his head and closed his eyes; within minutes he was fast asleep.  
****  
The sun had just peeped up the edge of the tree line when he woke up, a bit stiff but rested and prepared to make the last leg of the journey to his home. His horse, who had could sleep standing up, seemed more rested than its master. “Hmph, “snorted Gawaine, “Shows what you know.” The roan, as if sensing its master thought behind the words, tossed its head and sidestepped a bit to left and right while Gawaine untied and saddled up.

The falling snow which had been merely another distraction during his ride northward had now begun to fall more heavily, seemingly finding a way to slither down inside the back of his head and make his neck cold and damp. The roan steadily and uncomplainingly took each dip and subsequent rise with a steady economy of motion. Gawaine panted its neck and encouraged it on when another sound broke into the sounds of wind, snow and bare tree branches rubbing up against one another. 

Heavily booted feet crunching through the snow and in their attempt to stealthily instead give away their presence with every move they made. In the back of his own mind Gwaine realized that if anyone would be out in this weather it would have to be his brothers, Agravaine and possibly little Gareth; however, there was some doubt in whether or not this venture was Gareth’s idea or Agravaine’s. 

He could well imagine that Gareth, eager as a puppy and bright with the exuberance of youth and imagination would find a way to get out for a lark and dour, practical Agravaine would no doubt be dispatched to fetch the young lordling back to the castle.

He had just thought to spur the horse forward and surprise them when a bundle of fur and leather and eager boy leaped towards him and knocked him off of his saddle. 

“Gawaine!” exclaimed Gaheris. “I’m so happy to see you! But, you silly goose, why didn’t you send word that you were coming! Mother had to do that scrying thing she does and then sent us out to greet you.”

“Gaheris,” said Gawaine mock-severely, “You little imp, I’m glad to see you too, but you better let up or I’ll box your ears.”

“You do that, brother, and h Gareth will not be able to hear properly for a week straight,” remarked Agravaine.

Gawaine managed to get to his feet and took a good look at his little brother, Gaheris was all but of nine or ten winters old and still appeared to have a ways to go before he would lose the appearance of the baby he had been before Gawaine left the Orkney Isles, but he had the look in his eyes and his the bones of his face, that one of the healers at Camelot had said of another boy, ‘he has face that he has to grow into.’ If that was true of 

Gareth then it was certainly true of Agravine. His dark auburn hair was cut in a severe square and his heavy features looked like they had been etched into the skin of his face by a sculptor’s chisel, but despite all of that he offered his brother his equivalent of a smile.

“Welcome back,” Gawaine. Mother and father await us in the main hall,” said Agravaine, crossing the distance between them and offering his right arm to his brother, which Gawaine took and shook firmly.

**  
The main hall of King Lot’s castle was filled to bursting hung with holly and wintergreen garlands and ensconced in a high-backed chair carved with deer antlers, his brothers seated on either side of him, and Queen Morgause and King Lot in the center.

The amethyst necklace in an intricately worked silver chain which he had purchased in the market stalls at Camelot for Morgause looked becoming on her. His father wore his favorite dagger in the brand new supple sheath and seemed to be enjoying the Yule festivities thoroughly. Gareth could not stop talking about the brand new pony he had been given and Agravaine drank more than his usual modest amount of wine.

His own presents had been a new saddle and a brand new tunic that Moraguse swore she had sown with her own two hands. Gawaine felt the soothing warmth of pleasant memories and contentment wash over him. He was home, and while it may not be a permeant stay all the same he would soak it in for all it was worth.


End file.
